Last Measure of Devotion (TCOTU, Book 5) (This Corner of the Universe) (10 page)

Wallace’s
condescending manner was unmistakable in his tone.  The friendly banter displayed
between Wallace and Cooke, the evident mutual admiration of the two friends… none
of that was present.  Even the subtle jab at Heskan’s rank was apparent.  Over
the course of the last ten days, disturbing rumors had surfaced regarding why
Heskan was not an admiral, as was customary for corporate fleet commanders.  It
was no surprise that sources, anonymous of course, leaked those reasons to none
other than Chase Fuller.  Joshua Covington dismissed the rumors to Heskan in
private, reaffirming his complete confidence in not only his own decision to
elevate Heskan to the status of fleet commander but also Heskan’s competency to
carry out his duties.  However, Covington explained that promotion to admiral
was more of a political question than a military one.  The board of AmyraCorp
simply wanted further confirmation of Covington’s instincts before they adorned
Heskan with not only the rank of rear admiral but also the
fons honorum
title
of nobility that attached to it.  Admirals could always be retired or sacked
but noble titles, once granted, were more enduring.

Well,
Heskan thought as he scanned the
updated order of battle,
there’s certainly nothing patronizing about his
statement of overwhelming superiority.  A full twenty-eight ships to our ten.  Outnumbered
almost three to one.
  The brutal odds were exactly why he felt so adamant
about attriting Wallace’s fleet before the “real” skirmish in Seshafi.  Unlike
today, Heskan would have access to corvettes that could not tunnel and he hoped
to improve the odds further with more privateers and Gables’ secret fighter
squadron.  However, he knew that Wallace would come to Seshafi in the next
encounter with everything in his arsenal and as it stood now, that arsenal was
far too great.

Heskan
pressed his record button.  “Greetings, Viscount Wallace.  It’s a great honor
to be able to speak with you again.  I believe I shall defer at this time in
order to judge the prowess of your very large fleet and its commander.  As it
is your fleet that shall unconditionally concede, we may very well remain in
your system to enjoy our victory.”  Heskan closed the channel with a grin.

“Cheeky,
Captain,” Cottineau stated while flashing his own smirk.

Heskan simply shook
his head.  “I didn’t mean it to be when I started, Mike.  There’s just
something about that man that makes me want to slap him around a bit.”

*  *  *

Admiral
Wallace listened to Captain Heskan’s response while gently lifting a porcelain teacup
to his lips.  The leaves used for the drink were a heartier variety of
camellia sinensis
designed to flourish under Sade’s red
star.  While much of Sade’s social elite scoffed at the notion of drinking
anything less than the more standard strains of evergreen shrubs transplanted
from Terra, Wallace believed such pretentiousness failed to recognize the
complexity of the various Saden steeps.  He placed the cup down and reflected
that the nobles who discounted this tea did so because they were mired in the
daily machinations involved in climbing Sade’s social ladder.  Wallace’s status
as Lord of the Admiralty and a viscount freed him from having to put on such
airs.  He did not feel bound to follow the expected norms of a noble stratum; instead,
he created the norms to which others would conform.

Having
used the brief respite of his liquid refreshment to mask his irritation at the
brash Seshafian fleet commander, Wallace dipped the teabag into the cup to
disperse the final bits of annoyance.  He took comfort in the thought that he
would soon have the opportunity to embarrass the man during the fifty-seven
minutes of trial runs their fleets would conduct before Heskan’s unavoidable surrender
prior to formal hostilities.  “Damien, send this:  Your words shall be
carefully weighed and considered in an hour, Captain.  I trust your ‘no quarter
given’ attitude will extend to ‘no quarter asked’ after I force you to yield.”

Wallace
waved casually at his assistant and strategic advisor, Commodore Damien Ladd, who
quickly responded, “Sent, Admiral.”  The man studied his console for several
minutes and then commented, “Strange.  There it is again.”

“What
is it?”

“You
instructed me to watch the communications patterns between the Seshafi fleet
command ship and the warships and I’ve noticed something unusual.”  The man swiped
at his console and brought a duplicate image to one of the main wall screens. 
“Viscount, it appears that Captain Heskan is sending your response to the
Seshafi flag ship first and waiting for its response before replying to us.”  His
eyes clouded in confusion.  “It’s happened both times and—”  Ladd grew silent
as he scanned his monitor.  “There.  Dioscuri sent a narrow-beam message to its
C-Three ship and then, moments later, the command ship issued a fleet-wide
order.  They’re making way toward us now and splitting into their sections,
sir.”

Wallace
scanned the tactical plot.  With so few combatants, the Seshafians were
dividing their ships into only two sections: a main and vanguard.  This was
expected.  Curiously, it appeared the two sections would be asymmetrical with a
heavier main than van.

“What’s
that mean, Admiral?” his advisor asked.  “Is Captain Heskan seeking counsel from
Nguyen or Tannault?  If so, that’s going to hamper his reactions to our fleet
movements.”

“Order
our ships into position, Damien.”  Wallace brought a hand to his chin as he
considered the information.  He had scarcely believed his ears when Sade’s
Commander Peter Tannault repeated what his brother alleged during the banquet. 
The Red Admiral’s eyes lit up as he contemplated the greater meanings of his subordinate’s
statement.  He needed more data.  “Send this:  Captain Heskan, as is fitting,
considering our last encounter, I would be willing to concede my reserve in
exchange for both parties waiving possible prize ship rights.”

His
assistant looked at him curiously but dispatched the message.  “Sent, Admiral.”

Wallace
understood the confusion.  He had just negotiated against himself.  Prize ship
rights were a collection of agreements in which any aggressing party’s ships
that suffered too much damage to make the dive back to their home systems could
be taken by the defender as prizes.  The severity of losing ships in that manner
usually made it one of the first negotiation points insisted upon by the
aggressing party.  In his latest communication, Wallace had essentially done
that negotiating for Heskan, and further, handed him a boon by sweeping his
four-ship reserve from the table.  Though unusual, the offer was not as bad as
it seemed at first glance.  Prize ship rights were nearly always negotiated
away and Wallace’s reserve, comprised solely of corvettes, would almost
certainly not be needed in the skirmish anyway.  In return, Heskan would
unknowingly provide Wallace with additional, priceless intelligence.

The
Seshafian commander’s reply came five minutes later.  During that time, Wallace
divided his fleet into the traditional three sections of a corporate battle line. 
Each section was eight ships strong, led by Saden line ships and backed by at
least two brigs.  His reserve orbited with Wallace’s C-3 ship, waiting, hoping
for the opportunity to join the fray.

Such
opportunity for the tiny ships seemed destined to be unfulfilled with the
Seshafian reply.  Heskan’s confident voice carried weight but Wallace believed
he detected a veil of uncertainty regarding his generous proposal.  “Admiral, I
accept your offer.  Additionally, I would consider withdrawing my entire
casus
bellum
for an agreed period of peace between our corporations no shorter
than one year.”

Chuckles
around the command room broke some of the growing tension.  During the brief
respite, Wallace’s advisor confirmed his findings and reported, “Identical, Viscount. 
Their C-Three ship bounced your proposal to Dioscuri, waited for a reply and
then sent this message to us.  What do you think this means?”

“I
believe this means that my seedling inside AmyraCorp is bearing fruit… and if it
was correct about this matter, then perhaps it has veracity regarding other
matters as well.”  Wallace sat up straight and worked furiously at his command
console in front of an enormous holographic tank that displayed the tactical
plot in three dimensions.  “We’re abandoning the battle plan, Damien.  I want this
for now.”  He flashed over fresh orders to his assistant.  “Send that over to
the van and main immediately and then to the rear twenty-three seconds later.  I’ll
update as needed.”

The assistant
tactician looked over the new directives with a growing frown.

*  *  *

Heskan’s
command echoed over
Ajax’s
bridge speakers.  “Commander Vernay, rotate
your section four degrees port and continue burn to point one-four-C.  The van will
counter-rotate six degrees and maintain speed.  Each ship’s target is the enemy
opposing her.”

Commander
Vernay and the other Seshafian ship captains scrambled to comply with their
fleet commander’s orders during the final moments leading to the latest mock
battle pass. 
Ajax’s
sensor section tracked the movements and updated
the tactical plot to a daunting display of vector lines interspersed with
uncertainty zones.  The byzantine overlays on the plot threatened to drive the
inexperienced to distraction but Vernay interpreted the data as easily as
breathing.  Both Seshafian ship sections were crossing at points and speeds
that would provide them wonderful raking shots while minimizing the return
fire.  Just like the battle pass before the present one, Wallace’s rear section
reacted far too slowly to position itself for anything better than missile shots
from the section’s third-rate.

“Very
nice, Captain,” Ricot complimented.  The lieutenant commander waited for his shockseat
restraints to loosen and leaned toward Vernay to whisper, “We’d be ripping
Wallace up, ma’am.  This almost seems too easy.”

“I
agree, Sam.  Wallace might be a blowhard with delusions of grandeur but he’s
also one of the finest fleet commanders in corporate warfare lore.”  Vernay
frowned fractionally.  “Frankly, the fact that we’re having our way with him
makes me more nervous than if
he
was thrashing
us
.”  Her
shoulders slumped as she considered the situation.  The fleets had attempted
four passes in the last forty-eight minutes.  The first pass had been a turkey
shoot for the aggressors as Wallace’s sections failed to adapt to Heskan’s condensed
fleet formation.  The second pass was aborted despite the fact that the run
still would have, most likely, given Seshafi the upper hand.  However, Heskan had
explained that he wanted to practice a “live-fire” evasive maneuver to ensure the
entire fleet could respond quickly enough to avoid enemy fire if he found his
ships at a severe disadvantage.  They had executed the evasive maneuver and emerged
from the averted run in good order.  The following pass had been their most
successful with the most recent, and final, battle pass likewise ending up a
one-sided affair.  The Saden ships seemed to be reacting much slower than Vernay
remembered during the chaotic defense of Seshafi and she could not reconcile
the difference between then and now.  “Is it the larger ship sections?”

Ricot
shook his head.  “Eight ships are considered standard and Admiral Wallace
commanded more than that while fighting Unadex.”

Vernay’s
blue eyes narrowed.  “He’s up to something.  I don’t trust him.”

Heskan’s
voice crackled over the speakers again.  “Both sections will form line ahead
and come about to three-one-four.  Make your speed point one-two-C.”

“Do
it, Vikki,” Vernay ordered.  This was it.  Each fleet would form its line ahead
formation and wait for either a last-minute negotiated settlement or the orders
to begin the first, real battle pass.

“Message
from Dioscuri, Captain.”

Vernay
accepted the transmission eagerly and Garrett Heskan’s image appeared on the
wall screen.  It was strange seeing him there rather than just a meter from
her.  “Commander Vernay, I just wanted to tell you that I know your section’s
going to be a great hammer.  I’ll give maneuvering orders up until we’re
closing but you have final authority over your section’s movements.  You’re
more than capable and your insight during the final moments will make all the
difference on how much damage your section inflicts.”

Heskan’s
confidence was maddening to her. 
Doesn’t he realize that I’m still alive
more as a product of luck than any great skill or insight?  It could just as
easily be Mike Riedel sitting here than me.

The
fleet commander’s demeanor almost seemed casual.  “I’ll set you up as best I
can to hit the main but I want you to choose whichever section you think you can
hit the hardest.  While I’d rather your targets be Saden vessels, it ultimately
doesn’t matter which ships you cripple because we’d probably be seeing all of
them again in Seshafi.  Their corvettes are already out of the fight.” 
Heskan’s devilish smile only served to irritate her further.  “Any questions?”

Vernay
looked at the chronometer.  Seven minutes until hostilities could commence;
there was no turning back now.  Fighting the temptation to suggest a negotiated
settlement, Vernay merely returned the handsome fleet commander’s smile and
said nervously, “No, sir.  Be safe, sir.”